Part 3 of 3: The Barossa Valley (wine country)

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Getting Off Kangaroo Island
Our last night on Kangaroo Island was hot. Super hot. And because we'd had the nocturnal tour the night before, I went to bed dehydrated from all the walking. I woke up feeling like I'd swallowed a bottle of sand and consequently drank a bottle of water at brekkie. Not just any bottle, but a mega 1.5 liter bottle.
Dad looked over and asked. “Did you just drink all that!? We have a two hour drive ahead of us you know.”
I replied. “I’m dehydrated; my body will absorb most of it.”

The drive to the ferry was not nearly as tedious as the drive from the ferry, but it was still insanely hot and the AC struggled to keep up. Abby was tired, overwrought and having a hard time falling asleep. Meanwhile I was beginning to have a nagging feeling that maybe I'd had too much water. Finally, after a group singing of, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star and, Here Comes a Bear along with sustained foot rubbing, Abby fell asleep. Whew. Except just as she fell asleep, I knew with great certainty that I would not last till the ferry.

If there are two hard and fast rules in life they are this: Don't wake the baby in the car and, there are no public bathrooms on Kangaroo Island.

I tried reciting the Greek alphabet backwards and forwards. I practiced yoga breathing techniques, but I was getting desperate. Finally I gave up.
I leaned forward. “Dad, at the next dirt road can you turn off, pull in, but don’t really stop the car? We can't wake Abby up. I'll jump out while you drive away and then you can slowly drive back in like two minutes and I’ll hop back in.”
“Why?” My Dad whispered back.
“Because,” I sighed. “My body didn't absorb the all of the water.”

So, at the next turn, Dad did exactly that. I hopped out and gently shut the door as he rolled by. I then ran pell mell into the bush. Forget fears of snakes and spiders and scorpions - I had more, uh, pressing, issues on my mind. Exactly two minutes later the Nissan slowly rolled back up the dirt road, I dashed out from the scrub and quietly jumped in. Abby never even stirred.


How Hot Can It Get?
The drive from the ferry through Adelaide, up to the Barossa Valley, our final trip destination, only took about four hours. But we were in a national, record-breaking heat wave. We didn't get lost, we didn't stop for picnics or playgrounds, we didn't get pulled over by cops, but we did register 50 degrees Celsius while sitting in some traffic just west of Adelaide. That's 122 Fahrenheit, which is the hottest temperature I've ever personally experienced.

We were never so happy to see our resort. Not that it was exciting or rustic or adventurous like our other two locations had been. It was a Novatel - - like any other major hotel anywhere in the world. But we loved it because it had pumping AC, a pool, and great room service. We rented a two bedroom efficiency apartment that was child friendly and, except for a short spell down at the pool, we opted to spend our first afternoon letting Abby run around the apartment while we sat in the AC and did a lot of nothing.

The Barossa Valley is Australia's Napa Valley. It's located about 30 min to the north east of Adelaide. It's beautiful country with all the cutesy vineyard and B&Bs and charming towns you'd expect in wine-land.

On our first night in the valley, my parents hit the town. On the concierge's recommendation, they went to a restaurant called 1918. Les and I ordered room service and sat in the AC and didn't move. The heat outside was so extreme that there were fire bans throughout the country. This had one very unfortunate side effect. My parents had scheduled a surprise hot air balloon ride for Les and I for the following morning. We’d been looking forward to it all week. But the fire ban meant that no hot air balloons were allowed to fly and sadly, our trip was cancelled.


The Last Day of Vacation
We spent our last full trip-day exploring and trying to stay cool. It was also the first day where our flip-flops began to melt as we wore them. We started our day at a bakery Dad had identified the night before. It looked promising with a nice menu and indoor seating -- essential in the heat. What we didn’t realize was that it was run by Broom Hilda.

Our standard brekkie’s on the trip consisted of some sort of egg and bacon variation and flat whites. Flat whites are simply espresso with non-frothy, but steamed, milk mixed in. It’s a slight variation on the latte since a latte has frothed milk. But at this bakery, in addition to the flat white, there was a ‘muggachino’ listed and described as espresso with milk.
When Dad and Les went up to order they asked. “What is the difference between the muggachino and the flat white?”
The stout lady behind the counter snapped back. “A muggachino is mug of espresso with milk!” She said it as if that clarified things. She said it with an air of potential violence suggesting that she might fling a frying pan over the counter if they asked such a stupid question again.
Les, on a whim, decided he wanted one of the doughnuts that were sitting enticingly in the counter. He saw one that looked just like a Boston Cream but wanted to make sure it didn’t have some bizarre unexpected filling.
He asked, “Does that doughnut have cream in it? Like a Boston Cream?”
Broom Hilda turned and glared at him and snarled back. “No! It’s a custard doughnut! It has custard in it!”
Les, who I could tell was on the verge of either laughing or hucking the doughnut right at her, said in a restrained voice, “Fine, may I please have one of your custard doughnuts.”
Both Dad and Les had wondered what the “Toad in the Hole” option, under the brekkie entrees, might be but after that, they both were simply too scared. Dad decided to order it sight unseen. Les chose to get a normal bacon and egg roll. For each item they ordered she scowled, made derisive comments and generally retained a menacing presence behind the counter.

Fortunately the actual wait staff consisted of high-school aged girls who were all perky and smiling. They brought out what was a remarkably good breakfast, including Dad’s Toad in the Hole, which was just your basic toast with a hole cut out where the fried egg hides.
Good food - but the owner (for she could ONLY be the owner) was scary enough to make us think twice about returning there if we had time the next day.

We only hit two wineries. But they were both big and fairly Abby-friendly. The first was the Seppelt family vineyard. It was nice except for the fact that their parent’s room was located outside of the actual wine tasting building in a separate stand-alone unit. This meant traipsing through the scorching heat and through, inexplicably, a shrubbery. It doubled as the handicapped restroom and I'm not totally sure how someone in a wheelchair would negotiate the large hedge. We managed however, and left the Seppelt Vineyard with a very nice Semillon.

Our next and last vineyard was Jacob’s Creek. Since it was a brand we knew in America we thought it would be fun to see where it all happened. It was a major vineyard complete with tours, restaurants and even a petting zoo. The petting zoo was quickly ruled out, fun as it might have been, since extreme heat and furry animals rubbing up against you are not a good mix. We opted to stay in the nicely chilled wine tasting room and . . . taste away. Abby sat in her stroller and munched on some pasta and waved to everyone who walked by. It was a nice set-up and we left there with a Shiraz and a Merlot.

It was our last vacation day and we spent the afternoon at the pool just being lazy. It was so hot that if we weren’t in the water we had to be in shade. We spent three hours doing a little of each. The one exception we made was to briefly explore the resort's “Flying Fox” and “Cable Bridge” that they advertised as part of their recreational facilities. Dad and I made the short hike to their locations and almost burnt up in the process.

Both of the ‘activities’ were at the bottom of a steep trail that wound down to Jacob’s Creek. Hiking even five feet in 100 degree heat was not advisable, let alone down a hill that would eventually have to be hiked back up. But we were curious about what the 'activities' could be. Well, leave it to Australia to have major rope course lying about the property with nary a safety measure in place. The Flying Fox was a zip line that catapulted you off a platform and across the creek. The cable bridge, was exactly that, three cables across the water. Sure there were harness hook-ups in evidence, and sure there was a nice neat sign advising you to ‘keep off without assistance from the activities team’. But, like the Remarkable Rocks, Australia took a firm stance on personal responsibility. There was a sign. If you wanted to ignore it and zip away over the rocks, so be it. We were not feeling so daring and, curiosity sated, we melted back up the hill only to pause briefly at the sign warning us to stay on the trail as we were in a snake habitat. Apparently the snakes could delineate the dusty trail from the dusty non-trail and never strayed onto the paths. What a relief.

That evening, which was also New Year’s Eve, Les and I went out to the same restaurant, 1918, while my parents ordered room service. It was a charming restaurant that felt like we were eating at someone’s house out on their porch. We had a great meal and were home and in bed well before midnight, snug in our air conditioning! Happy 2006!

In Conclusion (but wait there’s more!!)
That’s pretty much the trip. Our final day was the standard jostling to catch planes, rent cars and try to not burn up. As you may recall, my first post-trip blog recorded temps around 120 in Sydney on the day of our arrival back home. Fortunately a front blew in later that evening and we cooled right back down.

This past week my parents rented a car and we went exploring to Manly, the Blue Mountains (in the rain), and other Sydneyside places including accompanying Dad and Mom on a work-related visit to a family in the actual Sydney suburbs (my first sense of what normal suburbia is like down here).

The final event of our three week visit with my parents occurred this past Saturday when Les and I climbed the Sydney Harbor Bridge. I’ll leave that for a separate entry in a few days or so when I’m not dreaming in blogs.

For now, thanks for reading allllllllllll these pages. We had a great three weeks with my parents, and an adventurous and exciting trip to South Australia.

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Photos

How We Spent TIme In the Car
I was singing 'Supercalafragalisticexpialadocious'. We spent hours singing to Abby to keep her content.

The Trusty Nissan
It was well over 100 in this photo and there were flies - I think the look on our faces pretty well communicates our GREAT desire to get in the car and turn on the AC!

The Snake Sign
Oh yeah, it's really clear where the path starts and the 'habitat' begins.

Comments

[Tim]

You are a natural writer.
I have so enjoyed reading these last 3 blogs. Watch out Bill Bryson is all i can say. Your blogs are as entertaining and informative as any travel book i have read. I look forward to the next post. Have fun in the sun!! Tim, England